chapter 2

Chapter 2

The warning shot wasn't a warning at all. It was the start of the hunt. A second crack echoed from the ridge, a high-pitched whine as a bullet ricocheted off the hood of the wrecked car Kaelen had been hiding behind. This time, she didn't hesitate. She scrambled away, a low, desperate scuttle toward the nearest cover—a half-buried, rusted-out bus. The ground tore at her knees, and the grit tasted of iron and despair.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Silas move. He wasn't running towards her. He was circling, a slow, deliberate movement that spoke of complete control. He was the fencer, and she was the one caught by the blade. He held a pistol, but he didn't fire. He didn’t need to. He had his own hounds on the ridge.

Another shot, closer this time, kicked up a spray of dust just a few feet from her. Kaelen reached the bus and ducked inside its hollowed-out shell, the smell of old oil and decay filling her nostrils. The windows were gone, jagged teeth of glass still clinging to the frames. She peered out from behind a torn-up seat. The sniper on the ridge had a clear shot at her now.

"I could kill you, Kaelen," Silas’s voice drifted in, closer now. "But that would be a waste. Gideon wants you. Not your corpse. And you wouldn’t want to disappoint him, would you?"

His words were meant to taunt, to provoke a reaction. But Kaelen's mind was a whirlwind of cold, hard logic. She was at a disadvantage. The sniper had the high ground, Silas had her flanked, and the open wasteland offered no escape. Her options were dwindling fast.

She gripped her pistol, a familiar weight in her palm. The rifle was still slung on her back, useless in such close quarters. She could try to rush Silas, but he was too quick, too well-prepared. She could try to find a way up to the ridge, but that would be a suicide run. The only option left was to fight her way out, but the odds were heavily stacked against her.

Then, Silas appeared. He was a dark figure framed in the jagged doorway of the bus. He moved with a languid confidence, his pistol hanging loosely at his side. His eyes, the color of a stormy sky, met hers. There was no anger there, no hatred. Just the cold, assessing look of a predator.

"Gideon is building an army, Kaelen," he said, his voice a low rumble. "He's consolidating power. He’s becoming a king. And he’s tired of whispers of the one that got away. He wants to show the others what happens to traitors. He wants a public execution."

Kaelen felt a surge of rage, hot and sharp. "Then what are you waiting for? Get it over with."

Silas didn't flinch. "I'm not here for Gideon, Kaelen. I'm here for myself." He took another step into the bus, and the space between them shrank. "Gideon is a warlord, a brute. He's a hammer, but I am the architect. He's an emperor with no clothes. He’s going to be the end of us all, unless someone stops him."

Kaelen scoffed, the sound a bitter, dry rattle. "And you think that's you? You're a bootlicker, Silas. You're no better than he is."

A shadow of a smile touched his lips, gone as quickly as it came. "That’s what he thinks, too. But a wolf in sheep’s clothing can still be a wolf. I’m offering you a deal, Kaelen. A way out. Help me take him down. Help me tear The Citadel apart from the inside, and you walk away with your life. You get your revenge, and I get my kingdom. Or," he raised his pistol, its black muzzle glinting in the dim light, "you can die here, just another footnote in the wasteland. What’s it going to be?"

The air was thick with the weight of his words, the unspoken truths and veiled threats. The sniper on the ridge was still there, the silent promise of a bullet a constant presence. Silas was offering her a choice, but it wasn't a choice at all. It was a deal with the devil. But Gideon had already proven to be the bigger devil. And Kaelen had always been a survivor.

She looked at him, at the cold, calculating intelligence in his eyes, and knew he was telling the truth. He was a wolf, just like her. He just wore a different kind of mask. And sometimes, to kill one monster, you had to make a deal with another.

"What's your plan?" she said, her voice barely a whisper. The rifle on her back suddenly felt a little less useless. She wasn't just a survivor anymore. She was a weapon.

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